The Rift
by Clare Meadows
Summary: Bella Swan finds herself in a new town with new abilities; she's part of a talented group of humans who have extraordinary talents. This group is known as Red Herring, and they exist for one reason - to take down the threat of the Lupines. How will Bella cope, as the weakest link of the strongest group of humans in the world? All Human.
**Chapter 1 - The Bathroom**

 _If we took a holiday,_

 _Took some time to celebrate,_

 _Just one day out of life,_

 _It would be, it would be so nice_

"Can we turn this crap off, Bella?"

My mum, Renee, was obviously tired of my music choices - but we were in my car, which meant by default we would be listening to my music. Madonna wasn't a bad artist, anyway - and I thought that the current track was fitting, considering that we were actually on our way to the airport so that I could go on an extended holiday.

And by 'holiday', I mean to say that I was being kicked out.

Currently, I lived with my mum, Renee, and her fiancé, Phil. They were both lovely people, but it was obviously clear that they wanted to spend a little bit more time together as a couple, and a little bit less time looking after their eighteen year old daughter; me. So I'd gone as the sacrifice, and told them that I would move to the dreary town of Forks to spend some more time with my father Charlie. He's the Chief of Police over there, and frankly I don't believe he's ever taken a holiday, so maybe it would do him some good to spend a week off helping me settle in.

"It's my last drive in Bessie, Renee," I replied to her earlier comment. I glanced over at her for a second; her face was pressed against the glass of the passenger window, and she had both eyes firmly shut. Renee doesn't look her age - she's about thirty five, but somehow she looks even younger. Her hair is tinted slightly red, and the colouring is only emphasised by the sunlight. Something about the way that she sits tells me that she isn't actually going to miss me.

At all, I'd say. In my head, I imagine that I should be offended by this - she's actually _pleased_ to see me go. But in my head, I can only find a little bit more positivity - I'm glad to be going. Renee and I are two sides of the same coin - we're two things that should never really have touched. Distance will be good for us, I think. And absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Bessie is the beautiful truck that I drive. It's a manual, and it's old - it's the oldest car I've ever seen in Phoenix. It's a rusty red - which does a pretty good job at hiding the actual build up of rust on the thing. It's technically not true that this is her last drive, because Renee is getting her sent over to Forks in a couple of weeks. If she doesn't forget, I suppose.

The flight isn't going to be long - just a couple of hours. But it's long enough, and I didn't even remember to pack a book. They're all in the suitcase, right at the very bottom - and I don't have the time or indeed the patience to start routing through that bloody thing.

"Bella, it's the next left, here," Renee interrupts my internal monologue. She's opened her eyes now, and she's looking about alertly. This is the most awake I've seen her in months - when Phil hasn't been present, that is.

She's right though. The airport is colossal, absolutely huge. There's a free section for temporary parking, and I quickly pull in. The signs tell us we have two hours from the moment of entry, which means I have to get on. I climb out of the car and lock the doors. It's not a central locking system, nice as that would be, so I run around to the passenger door and lock that too. As I'm doing this, Renee hauls my suitcase out of the back and lops it onto the ground.

It falls over, so I shoot her a look.

We scurry inside, and my grip on the suitcase handle is shaky because I'm actually a bit nervous about the whole thing. I'm leaving home, properly.

It doesn't take long for the baggage to go through, and I take the little slip of paper I'm handed. I'm bound to lose it, so I shrug and tuck it neatly into my pocket. It seems like as good a place as any.

"I better say goodbye, Bella," Renee tells me. She does look somewhat upset now, her blue eyes are shining a little too brightly. I think she might actually have tears in her eyes. Unfortunately, I'm not as emotionless as I thought I was, because just a second later my eyes are doing the same thing.

I don't want to drag this out, so I pull her in for a hug.

"E-mail me, yeah?" I say, somewhat unsteadily.

"Of course I will," I was right; Renee's voice is completely shaky, and I feel her breathing hitch as she tries to compose herself.

"Have fun on the honeymoon, don't forget the suncream, okay?" I continue, trying to reign myself in. I am going to miss her.

"I won't," Renee finally pulls away. Our faces are both clear now, steady. There's a fake level of composure there, but we both pull it off extraordinarily well. I nod, and I think Renee does it back instinctively.

I look around fleetingly for a moment, taking a moment to just accept the surroundings, take everything in.

When I look back at Renee to say my final farewell, she's gone.

* * *

I find myself a McDonalds, and when I've ordered my cheeseburger and medium fries, I find myself a metal chair to sit in. The airport is relatively quiet considering it's a fucking big airport. I'm content with it though, and I watch the various people - businessmen, families, lone individuals - filter through as I munch on my food.

I'm almost sleepy. It's been a long drive to the airport. Renee refused to drive on the way, arguing that she would have to drive all the way home. She's always hated the truck, but I hope that means she's much more likely to send it on to me when she can.

I don't even realise I've drifted off until the images begin.

* * *

 _There's an older women walking along. I can see her almost from an outsider's perspective, like the camera shot from a film. In the background, I can see myself dozing, my head lolled over to my left shoulder. This woman, though - she's got short, grey hair. It's almost white in places, and something about the variation in colouring reminds me of a tiger. Or a leopard - a snow leopard._

 _Either way._

 _The lady continues walking, taking small steps thanks to her high heeled ballerinas. She looks as if she's going to fall over at any moment, but she perseveres. I can't tell if she's with anyone, but she continues on to the toilets and enters them, stepping into the cleanest cubicle she can see._

 _There's a pause, and the silence suddenly seems ominous. In my mind, I can feel myself set on edge. Something's about to happen._

 _There's a soft, pained cry that comes from the woman's cubicle. There's nothing to see - just a pale blue toilet door. The soft sound repeats a little louder, and there's a low thud - the sound of something hitting the floor. In my head I know, I've got to get to help her, she's -_

* * *

"Ma'am?"

I bolt upright, nearly striking the poor flight attendant in the face as the words come out in a rush -

"She's having a heart attack!"

I don't even bother to apologise to the man, shooting upright and bolting in the direction of the toilets - the same direction as the lady who I'd just seen in my dream. I'm dimly aware of the fact that running through an airport is one of the worst things you can do. But I don't have the time to walk.

I fly through the doors, and I enter the ladies room just as I hear the thud of the lady hitting the floor.

"Madam, can you hear me?" I almost lunge towards the third toilet door, stood right next to it.

There's silence, followed by another sound of pain.

"Shit," I mutter to myself - and then, the most impeccable timing - a female attendant comes through the doors.

She's got black hair, tied back in a bun, and she looks incredibly wary. I'm guessing she's been sent by her male colleague, judging from the way that she's looking at me. I don't have time to try and explain myself.

"There's a woman having a heart attack in that cubicle, she needs help," the words fly out of my mouth, uncoordinated and desperate. I look at her with panic in my eyes.

The flight attendant knocks on the door, attempts to budge it and finds it pressed shut - presumably because the lady is collapsed on the floor behind it.

"Please, she is," I practically shriek in my desperation. "Call for an ambulance," I tell her, my voice lowering and becoming instantly commanding. I've had an idea.

The woman - Tiana? That seems to be what her name tag says - looks at me and then nods. She leaves without saying a single word.

I look at the door. She's in the end cubicle, and that's probably a good thing. The wall that the door is attached to looks flimsy at best - well, the door is attached to a little bit of plastic walling, which is sealed against the plaster of the room. I find a firm grip on the plastic walling of the cubicle and pull - one good, solid yank -

\- And the wall comes cleanly away. The door itself comes away too, and I find myself holding it in my right hand. I prop the massive piece of walling against another cubicle door and lean down to the lady on the floor.

She's unresponsive -

But it's suddenly not my problem, as two burly paramedics enter the room. I'm gently shooed away, and I stand back to let the professionals do their work. I stand there, staring at the woman - waiting -

"Three, two - clear -"

There's the defibrillator, I think to myself, but I'm mostly lost by the medical equipment. As it is, there's a single cough and suddenly she's being moved onto a stretcher and out - and I'm left, stood in a torn up public bathroom, confused and completely exhausted.

What the fuck just happened?


End file.
